Classic Poem

Brazen companion of my solitary hours! do you, while I recline, pronounce a prologue to those sentiments of wisdom and virtue, which are hereafter to be the oracles of statesmen, and the guides of philosophers. Give me to-night a proem of our essay, an opening of our case, a division of our subject. Speak! — ( Slow music. The Friar falls asleep. The Head chaunts as follows .) — The B RAZEN H EAD .
I THINK , whatever mortals crave,
— With impotent endeavour, —
A wreath, a rank, a throne, a grave, —
— The world goes round for ever:
I think that life is not too long;
— And therefore I determine,
That many people read a song
— Who will not read a sermon.

I think you've looked through many hearts,
— And mused on many actions,
And studied Man's component parts,
— And Nature's compound fractions:
I think you've picked up truth by bits
— From foreigner and neighbour;
I think the world has lost its wits,
— And you have lost your labour.

I think the studies of the wise,
— The hero's noisy quarrel,
The majesty of Woman's eyes,
— The poet's cherished laurel,
And all that makes us lean or fat,
— And all that charms or troubles, —
This bubble is more bright than that,
— But still they all are bubbles.